lostinangela  asked:

11 🙂

I thought you didn’t want me – Fenris x Hawke <3

She is a weakness. She aches in his bones, in his blood, hurts more than the lyrium ever could. He hates her. He loves her so much. He hates that he loves her because he knows that he doesn’t have the right. Not after all that he has done to her. It’s only right that she wouldn’t want him. He had his chance. He let her slip away because he was weak, he was a coward, he was a fool and he was unworthy. She is too much the sun and he belongs to the shade.

She laughs to whatever Anders is saying, elbow on the table and chin in her hands. She smiles as she listens to him speak, eyes bright, a finger tracing the rim of her mug. Another chuckle, both hands around the mug now, lifting it to her lips. A small trace of foam lingers on the side of her mouth, and he resists the urge to reach out, brush it away. It’s Anders who does that instead. Her back snaps straight after his touch, her face turning red, bringing a hand to where he had touched her.

Fenris rises from the table, leaves his own mug untouched. She doesn’t want him. This is what he thought he wanted. He thought it better if she hated him, if she stayed away. She deserved more than what poor offerings he could give. The night is cool upon his skin, but it does not chase away the fire that coils around his chest. The burning that tells him everything is wrong. It isn’t better. He needs her. She doesn’t need him.

“Fenris!” He looks over his shoulder, sees her running towards him. Away from the fires of the Hanged Man, the laughter of their friends. Towards him. He keeps walking. “Maker’s breath, Fen, wait!” Warmth on his skin as her hand finds his arm, pulls herself in. “Always trying to run away from me,” she says as she smiles at him. She keeps her arm linked in his, both hands on his skin, as tight as she can get. Cheeks flushed from running, not because of him.

“You should go back,” he says, “the others will miss you.”

“I’d rather be with you,” she tells him. He shakes his head, looks away from her.

“Fenris,” she says softly, “why are you avoiding me?” He stops mid-step, on the stairs that lead to Hightown. She lingers on the step below him, looks up at him.

“I’m not avoiding you,” he says.

“Yes,” she says, “you are. Have I done something wrong?”

“No. No, I – no,” he sighs. Her hand reaches for his, clumsy fingers locking together as she walks forward, keeps them on the same step.

“Tell me,” she says.

“I…” his hand squeezes hers before he slips out of her grip. “Perhaps another time.” He turns, resumes his walk. After a moment, still on the step, watching the stiff line of his shoulders, she follows after him. She stays that one step back from him the rest of the way. He stops at his mansion, looks at her. She’s standing in moonlight, her hands clasped behind her back.

He always looks so sad. His brows furrowed, a knot that lingers just there. She aches to brush it away, to press her lips against his and tell him all the things she can’t. After all, he doesn’t want her.